Three Times The Doctor Called
by i-am-wholocked
Summary: Sherlock Holmes met the Doctor exactly three times. The first was for a present, the second was for an adventure and the last was for a chance.
1. The Present

_Sherlock Holmes met the Doctor exactly three times. The first was for a present, the second was for an adventure and the last was for a chance. _

The Doctor, an awkward man who could barely control his own limbs, followed by his current companion, a young girl with dark brown hair and a clean white smile, walked through a futuristic museum hall full of famous human skulls. They rested in haunting glass boxes, labeled with an odd array of eternal names.

"Look at all these, Clara! Anyone in particular you'd like to find?" The Doctor beamed.

Clara sniffled, "Doctor, don't you think this is a bit disgusting? Displaying people's skulls and all?"

The Doctor paused for a moment, pondering Clara's opinion. He replied, "Not in the slightest. I've seen much more disturbing displays than this one at countless museums, all over the universe. Plus, this museum wasn't created by humans, just some other races fascinated by human culture."

Suddenly the Doctor noticed a name, one he was rather familiar with. The skull reminded him of an important acquaintance. He pictured the skull sitting on the mantle in a special flat, and realized what he needed to do. He whispered to Clara, "I need to do a favor for a friend, and it might get us in some trouble. When I say run, we're going to sprint to the TARDIS. Got it?" His companion rolled her eyes, clearly disapproving of his plan, but nodded.

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and made his way toward the container. Clara examined the plaque, reading the name of the skull _Dr. John Watson_. "John Watson? Who was he?" Clara asked.

The Doctor shushed his companion, and then he used his sonic to open the lock on the lid of the box. As he grabbed the skull from inside, red, security lights began to blink and an alarm sounded. Sticky footsteps of a peculiar, alien race (known for their studies in human history) approached. "RUN!" he shouted, darting toward his blue box, which was parked on the other side of the room. Clara followed him without question.

As they closed the TARDIS door, the Doctor handed the skull over his friend. He began pressing buttons and turning knobs. His confused companion shouted, "Doctor! Are you going to tell me where we're taking this thing?"

"To a little boy in need of a friend!" He declared with excitement.

A lonely boy sat outside his parent's intimidating, dark mansion, resting his back against one of the vine covered stonewalls. Most children would have been shocked to see a large blue box materialize out of thin air, but the boy was just curious. He loved puzzles, and this new mystery would entertain his afternoon.

The puzzle became more fascinating when a man and a woman emerged from the box. Using the knowledge of anthropology he'd gained through reading, he noticed that the female held a male skull in her hands. He calmly addressed the pair, "Hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes." He pointed to the man, "You're an alien . . ." Next he pointed to the girl, "… you're from the future, and that's the skull of a man who was older than sixty when he died."

The curly-haired boy spoke like an adult, yet to Clara, the lad appeared no older than seven. She asked, "How did he know all of that?"

The Doctor smirked and squatted to the boy's height. He said, "Great deductions Sherlock! How could you possibly know all of this?"

The boy didn't seem the least bit faced that a stranger knew his name. First, he pointed toward the open door of the police box, "That box is not a normal nineteen-fifties, public call box, it is some sort of spaceship that appears smaller on the outside. Clearly not human technology." He turned to the Doctor, who stood up, and he spotted the sonic screwdriver, "Also, you are carrying that thing, which is not a human invention."

The lad faced the girl next, "As for you, I noticed your style of dress was not something current, but also was not something from the past. In addition, you had a very tiny phone in your jacket pocket. We don't carry phones that small yet, but I'm sure we will someday. Finally, I have studied anthropology in books. The cranial sutures of this skull are not very pronounced, meaning the person's death occurred well past middle age. I knew the skull belonged to a male because of the slanted frontal bone and boxed chin."

The Doctor smiled brightly and looked over at his companion, who was completely stunned by the small boy's deductions. The extraterrestrial took the skull from Clara and handed it to the tiny detective. He declared, "You're going to need this skull in the future, and I promise, you will soon understand why. Let him serve as a reminder that everyone deserves at least one good friend in life, and he will always be here to protect you. You'll see me again soon." He turned and walked back to his ship, Clara in tow. They shut the door behind them, and the ship began to fade away. As it disappeared, it made a sound that Sherlock would always remember.

Inside the TARDIS, Clara asked, "Will you really see that boy again soon?"

The Doctor replied, "Not exactly. I won't see him, but he'll see me. A younger version of me will meet an older version of him." He paused for a moment, reminiscing about his times spent with the great detective. Then he continued, "Well Clara, don't you have an important date coming up sometime in the 21st century? We can't keep her waiting!"

_**Author's Note: I apologize for errors, because my beta isn't home. Also, the idea of the Doctor bringing Sherlock John's skull is not original to me, I saw it a while ago on Tumblr. I don't remember the original source, but if you know please send me a message so I can give proper credit. Most of this fanfiction will be based off of Wholock 'headcanons' that have been floating around tumblr. I will be posting another chapter in a bit.**_


	2. The Adventure Part 1

**Author's Note: Hey Readers, thanks for reading! Please remember, I do not claim all of the original ideas in this story, it is more so a collaboration of Wholock "head-canons" that have been spreading around. There might be grammar/spelling errors, because I don't have a beta for this story yet. If you want to be my beta, send me a message. We can work something out. Thanks again!**

One evening at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes, in his dressing gown, contently played violin near the window. Meanwhile, the detective's dearest friend, Dr. Watson sat in his favorite chair and read the paper.

Suddenly, Mr. Holmes heard a hauntingly familiar sound in the distance. He put down his instrument and turned to look at the door.

John didn't look up from his paper, but he mumbled, "What's the matter Sherlock?"

The detective replied, "Nothing, just . . . did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That odd noise. There it is again."

"I don't know what you're talking about Sherlock." Dr. Watson returned his focus to his paper.

Sherlock went back to his music for a moment, but banging footsteps, coming quickly up the stairs, interrupted him. Without looking back at the door, he asked, "Mrs. Hudson, would you please quiet down?"

"Mrs. Hudson?" asked a familiar voice.

John looked up from his paper. The detective turned around; this was the impossible man from the blue box. He stared at intruder, stunned. The odd alien didn't look any older than the day they first met, now more than three decades ago. _Of course, bloody time travel. _He thought. A lean, redheaded woman and an awkward-looking man stood beside the extraterrestrial.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" The alien asked.

"Yes, but didn't you already know that? Last time we met . . . you knew my name," The confused genius blurted. (John still sat in his chair, flabbergasted by the odd man and his two dorky companions, who were covered in green slime.)

"Oh, well, you know who I am. Time-travel really does fumble some things. At this point, I've never met you, and I'm here to ask for your help, actually," He explained.

"No, actually I don't know much about you at all. I don't even know your name, or what species of extraterrestrial you are. We met once, but it was brief. You gave me a gift," Sherlock added, discreetly looking toward the skull on the mantel.

"I'm The Doctor, a time lord," the alien confirmed, "And these are my dear friends Amy and Rory Pond."

"Amy and Rory Williams," Rory attempted to correct The Doctor, but both geniuses brushed his announcement aside. Amy hushed her husband, patting his shoulder. He jumped as she added even more green, sticky guck to the already extensive collection covering his clothing.

John interrupted, "Wait… so you're saying, that I'm supposed to believe this guy is an alien you met in your past, but he's never met you before, because of time travel?"

Both brains turned to John. Sherlock begged, "Yes John, really do try and keep up." That shut down Dr. Watson. He turned to The Doctor. "So, I assume whatever you need my help with, it's not something native to earth, and it gives off some sort of green residue?" He gestured to the stuff covering Amy and Rory.

The Doctor chuckled, "Of course Mr. Holmes . . ."

The detective interjected, "Call me Sherlock, please."

The other continued with his typical emphasis, "Oh yes, Sherlock, of course. Well, at any rate, I'm desperate to hunt down this huge, green, goo monster. I hear you're the best detective in this dimension. So, would you and John like to join us for an adventure?" He gestured toward Amy and Rory when he said 'us'.

"Hmm, well I'd have to think about it . . ." Sherlock responded.

Watson jumped up from his chair, "He'll take the case!"

The detective begged, "What are you doing John?"

John replied, "I'm tired of listening to you whine about how boring all your cases have been lately. Let's try something a bit beyond earth for a change!"

The Doctor clapped his hands together excitedly and childishly declared, "That settles it then! You'll help me find the monster!" He dashed out the door, "Geronimo!"

Within the next few hours, Sherlock had easily tracked down the mysterious monster. The detective, with the help of the Doctor, identified the extraterrestrial and sent it packing, back off to some planet where it belonged, all before nightfall.

All seemed well, but then Sherlock received a phone call from John. He'd been with Rory and Amy, investigating a lead of some disturbance on the other side of the city. Over the phone line he mumbled, "Great, I'm happy you found this stupid alien, but more important stuff is happening in London right now. These things, these . . . angels . . . they did something to Amy and Rory, and now I can't find them anywhere. Also, some woman, she calls herself River, I think. Well, she says she knows how to deal with these moving statues and she's calling them 'Weeping Angels'. She wants to see the Doctor."

Sherlock relayed the phone message to his new friend, who gasped. He hadn't seen the weeping angels in a very long time. He declared, "We have to get over there, now!"

The detective agreed, and they hopped in a cab. When they arrived at John's specified location, a park on the outskirts, they found John, a bit shaken but not scared, and River, who wasn't the least bit phased. Weeping Angels surrounded them. The Doctor leaned over to Sherlock and whispered, "Don't move any closer to them, and whatever you do… Don't blink."

_**Author's Note: Sorry the end was rushed; I WAS IN A TIME CRUNCH TO PUBLISH BEFORE BAND CAMP!**_


	3. The Adventure Part 2

_**Author's note: I still have no beta for this fic! If anyone is interested, let me know.**_

The bright crescent moon, hanging in the clear, night sky, provided just enough light for John to see as he sprinted through tall, auburn trees. The original group had separated on the run from the Weeping Angels, leaving Sherlock and John running amid the heavily wooded park and River, along with the Doctor, running back toward the darkened city. Large hordes of animated statues followed both pairs.

Watson, far ahead of his flatmate, darted from side to side among the lofty plants, avoiding fallen logs and hidden boulders. The physician ran right through several low hanging branches, and they snapped back hitting the angels that were chasing him. Still, the grey, stone women gained ground on him no matter what defenses he tried. He heard Sherlock's voice shouting out behind him, "John! JOHNNNN!"

Suddenly the cries stopped. John spun around rapidly, behind him stood a weeping angel, in place of his best friend. "No, no, no," the petite man muttered. Finally, impossibly loud and at the top of his lungs he screamed, "DOCTOR!" Then everything went black.

From where he stood with River, the Doctor heard John's cries. He made the quick decision to hurry back and aid the physician. He knew in his heart that he needed to help the detective and his friend.

River called after him, "Sweetie! You shouldn't go against the plan, and you can't go through that part of the park! The greatest concentration of angels is right through this line of trees!" She held a small device in her hand, which she used to scan the presence of alien life forms in the area. The little dot on the screen closest to her was her husband, but the rest of the local dots were angels.

Still darting forward, the Doctor turned his head round and replied, "Sorry, love, but I can't let him get hurt. Sherlock would never forgive me. He's the only thing keeping that detective sound."

River Song rolled her eyes and wished her disobedient husband well; "I know you have to go. Good luck! Be safe! I love you." Then she continued running as well.

When the lone Time Lord arrived at the scene of the crime, it was already too late. On the soft, cold ground where Sherlock and John had been just moments before, a single blue scarf rested in the dirt.

The Doctor picked up the piece of thin fabric, shook it off and wrapped it around his own neck. He took a deep breath, sighed, and then set off to reunite with his wife. His goal was no longer to protect his four friends, because now he needed find all the lost companions he couldn't save before.

"John. John. John." Dr. Watson awoke to the sensation of someone violently shaking him and incessantly repeating his name. He blinked and opened his eyes, feeling the piercing pain of the bright sun. Sherlock, awkwardly straddled over him, continued screeching "JOHN! JOHN!"

John groaned, "I'm awake Sherlock. Stop shaking the bloody life out of me already!"

Watson scanned the surrounding area. The park looked similar to the one where they just were, but daylight made it easier to see. Green trees and green grass filled the commons. Well-dressed citizens in vintage clothing walked around them. The woman wore dresses with huge skirts and the men all sported jackets and hats. The buildings and benches all looked much different from their modern counterparts. A barefoot boy handed newspapers to people on the street, while horse carriages darted by. John did not see any cars, cabs, buses, phone booths or stop lights. This London, if it was even London, seemed quieter than the one he knew and loved.

The detective backed away from his friend and explained, "I need to tell you my deductions. The only possible explanation leads me to believe that we've been sent back in time. I imagine this is Victorian era, from what I've deduced so far."

John sat up and mumbled, "Impossible."

"No, not impossible. Just highly unlikely based on the technology we have in our time. Time travel is possible, just very improbable. I think those angels did this to us. Those aliens have some sort of power to send people into the past, rather than killing them," Holmes clarified.

The other replied, "So you're saying those creepy, rock girls somehow propelled us back in time?"

Sherlock snapped, "Precisely Watson." The detective stood up and brushed the dust off his pants. John did the same. Passerby had now noticed the odd men lying in the middle of the park. People looked over and murmured comments about their odd appearance.

The detective turned to his friend and whispered, "We need to get out of here. Then, we need to find appropriate clothing. We can't draw attention to ourselves. After that, we will find a way to leave a message for the Doctor." He grabbed the physician's hand and pulled him along.

John growled, "Like this won't draw attention."


End file.
